


Dead And Alive

by TacosAndBeetles



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, High School, Klyntar, M/M, Marvel Universe, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Symbiotes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TacosAndBeetles/pseuds/TacosAndBeetles
Summary: Sinatra- Cold. Distant. Highschool senior.Chloe- A bean. Friendly. Highschool junior.Jannicca- Delusional. Praise-seeking. Gang leader.Ethan- Rich. Careful. Secret single membered justice police.Jale- Selfish. Careless. Homeless.The unlikeliest bunch to ever fight together, let alone even find each other! Yet when several symbiotes escape from a lab (because of course lab), this is exactly what happens. They find themselves rising from enemies, to friends, to still part-time enemies ;).They find family (even love?) in the strangest places. And really, they wouldn't have it any other way.





	1. Chapter 1

P.O.V Sinatra:

A girl got off a bus. The sunny, California weather bared down as always, despite still being the beginning of the year. The girl carried an air of annoyance that let others know to stay away. But, of course, they could also have picked up on it from her mute-ness during the rare times one would try to converse with her. It wasn't many times, never had been, and for someone choicing a stay on the social outskirts, that was exactly as preferred. The girl waited by the school's bus door for the other students.

As the other students got off, she quietly counted heads and kept track of the numbers. Though looking after students wasn't something Sinatra could say she was crazy about, she still begrudgingly agreed to it when asked. Counting students wasn't useful for being a veterinarian, but it still gave her extra credit to help out. If the job didn't, she wouldn't be wasting time accounting for others' well-being.

Sinatra cataloged her numbers for later, then proceeded to stalk behind the class swarm, too disconnected to join in their gossip, too curious towards potential experiments in the building to be fully tuned-out.

And still her mind was too bored to give anything more than second glance, while simultaneously, hypocritically, really, memorizing every little detail as it was laid before her. Her deep, blue eyes rotated over the premises as they were led through the lab's front doors. The large structure vaguely reminded her of a doctors' office, with its clean, sterile feel and plain white walls. The main entryway was clean, with polished walls and a tile floor that reflected its inhabitants like a mirror. A high glass ceiling, several stories up, let the sun shine through. Doctors and lab-coated scientists bustled to and fro with a gait of deep purpose as if they actually had somewhere important to be.

To Sinatra, their sense of hustle was the main interest. The urge to follow prodded her senses. Follow them, go through every file of the experiments they were currently running and find the most fascinating one. Learn everything possible about it, and bypass the rest. But the class continued to move forward, and the building's hallways were unfamiliar and winding, so Sinatra edged herself to pursue the class.

They all sat down in the large waiting room near the main desk, which was situated near the far right from the entrance doors. Sinatra quick-checked student heads as they all sat down, then moved next to the chairs and comfortably leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. If anyone noticed, they made no mention. If anyone saw Sinatra standing, saw her gaze drifting and flitting between the people walking by, they showed no signs of interest as to what she was thinking, nor made any move to offer her a seat. Within 15 minutes the class was greeted with their guide. The school's two teachers sent to oversee the trip quickly got up and walked over to greet her.

Young, black hair shone glittering in the sun, done up and fancy, thus setting a stark contrast to everything around her and looking down-right out of place. Sinatra searchingly eyed the hair style, trying to resist the urge to roll her eyes at it. It's useless, she repeated. Looking nice for a group of cajoling high-schoolers making a ruckus in a lab is a pointless endeavor. And it did nothing to soothe the guide's tight-lipped smile and odd-eyed glimmer. She carried a slim, green folder under her left arm.

The guide's preppy gait, while effective, still did nothing do to hide her sour-ness. The name tag on her right breast pocket read "Jane L.". She proceeded to shake hands with the teachers, who each met Jane's wide smile with ones that didn't quite reach their eyes.

Jane walked over to the class. Her eyes, round and brown as chocolate, roamed the group. They went over each individual and lost a little more hope as she studied the class. Two boys trying to head-lock each other and a girl waving money at her friends (trying to get them to join in on the betting) seemed to steal the most hope from Jane. Her posture sighed and then went rigid as she straightened. Positioned closer to Jane's side, Sinatra clearly viewed Jane's agitated, twitching fingers hidden behind the folder. She felt a wry smile settle on her lips

Jane clapped her hands four times before the class finally settled into attention. "I'm Dr. Lambeth," she started, "and I'm very happy to get to show you around." Her voice was mellow, slightly slower than average, and surprisingly deep, Sinatra thought. Jane's small, 5 ft 3 form gave no hint to it. "I'm going to be showing you around for the day. While here, there are some rules you'll have to be briefed on."

The class groaned. Sinatra kept observing. "I brought packets for you all to read through. I know, I'm sorry, I don't make the rules. It's short, so soon we'll be able to start the tour and go over all the interesting things we do here!" Her tone went up and down, overly sweet, too cheerful. Sinatra mentally scoffed at the kindergartener tone and watched on with cold eyes. The packet was handed out to everyone, even the teachers so they could help explain it to the class. Though Sinatra had wandered closer to the group she never received the packet as their stack of it went around. She kept an ear on the regulations and waited.

Luckily it wasn't long before the class finished. Individually they each got up and handed back the packet, sometimes completed with perfection, sometimes completed with holes and tears. Their guide handed the packet stack to the teachers, whom of which had sat down and looked none-to-happy to receive the stack. Jane turned back to the students and clapped her hands. The sharp crack reverberated across unprepared ears, Sinatra's included, and was followed by a quick series of loud complaints. Jane tucked the green folder under her other arm and, with fake-smile still in place, motioned for us to follow. Sinatra pushed herself off the wall in ease, motion graceful, collected, face blank. The motion caused a stray strand of hair to fall onto her nose, where it relentlessly brushed and tickled against Sinatra's tan skin. She brushed it out of her face with the faintest hint of a glare and simply tucked it behind an ear instead of re-tucking it into her thick braid. The jumble of a class-along with the teachers-left a loud echo of a trail in their wake, one Sinatra was sure the guide wasn't even trying to restrain anymore. She took one last sweeping look over the main room, then slipped behind the them once more.

Sinatra's attention waned and waxed. The guide pressed on any new discoverie made within the last four years, and rambled on about new, fresh species uncovered in the deep sea. Sinatra listened in at Lambeth's first words during each new room (three, so far), but as the guide led them through 4 more Sinatra heard the same words repeated one discovery after the other, only with different names and emphasis. Much to Sinatra's continued annoyance, Jane would rather talk about newfound species rather than what actually happened to said creatures once scientists found them. Sinatra's one-time question about the matter was avoiding-ley steered around and Lambeth quickly re-directed the class attention to a new study of space dust.

After exploring the different parts of the facility, the class finally made it to the cytology area. Sinatra could feel her boredom starting to take over. She drifted towards a rack of pamphlets near this cytology room's door. The cover had the lab's logo on it, complete with a picture of the building in all of its photoshopped-bright glory. But her eyes didn't keep track with the words, and her mind didn't track the meaning. She held it in her hands, staring beyond the edge of the paper, let her eyes relax, used its fuzziness to lose herself in thought.

Jane & Class shuffled closer, but before opening the cytology door a siren suddenly screamed. Sinatra jolted and tensed, winced at its hollow wails. Like a banshee, with all the same terror and confusion plastered on the faces of those caught in her deathly cry. Its echos vibrated throughout the complex, hardly giving mind to let down. The class shouted, screamed for answers. Gave Jane confused looks. Jane, who's back was to the class, facing Sinatra, let Sinatra see it before Jane even said it. Sinatra's eyes widened, her mouth grit, and her pulse shook as her hands suddenly turned clammy. The only raw, unguarded emotion anyone would never see on her. Jane started turning, caught Sinatra's eye and mirrored her look, and for once Sinatra didn't internally mock her and her needless fashion. At least now she'll die with it on, unlike us. Then Jane turned around, and the rest of the class saw what was written on her face.

They screamed with renewed purpose. Loud wails that almost matched those of the still-screaming alarm. Then they started running. Bodies shoved each other out of the way, not bothering to check those they trampled underfoot. Why would they, when their own survival was on the line? Nothing more than a frenzied mob, desperate to claw away at each other to save themselves from a threat still unknown.

Fear and confusion overtook and Sinatra, too, scrambled after the class. Her legs took her to the front in stride where she weaseled her way through and around bodies. She slipped past them, jarred from limbs shoved in her way, but undeterred as she pushed them back. The tide burst through the entrance doors and ran out in endless waves just to trickle into streams and droplets on the outskirts. Sinatra lept out and swung around the building's side where she skidded to a halt. Now in open air she was free to take a breath, or would have been, had a breath of smoke not her hack. Her head snapped up and her stance stayed that of a rabbit, ready to bolt at any moment. Sinatra hurriedly crept along along the outskirts of the parking lot. Her gaze flitted between the building and the people, wondering what the Hell one of them might have done to make the alarm go off. Smoke tickled the back of her throat and dug its way into her eyes. They were already welling with tears at the affects.

She got to the buses and looked back, wincing at both the shooting pain in her calf and at an unrecognizable sky. The normal, cloudless blue was stricken in shades of grey. Black plumes of smoke poured from the building like a volcano's fury. People were nothing more than the lava to such a volcano, endlessly pouring from the building's suffocating grip, damaging everything else as they came out.

Trying to collect herself at the buses was easier said than done. Sinatra felt her heart still jack-hammering in its cavity, unrelenting, and unwanted. Several classmates were already waiting near the buses with tear-stricken faces. Some were holding onto each other, as if they were each fragile, broken pieces of glass that needed a tender hand. Others were on their phones recording, laughing, even. A sick disgust rolled in her stomach at the sight. Within minutes, all but one of the class (including teachers) was accounted for. Sinatra, focused sharpened in a sudden drop of unease, counted again. Then again, once more. Worry was the harsh claw that jabbed itself into her stomach, yet it wasn't entirely worry for the lost student. In part it was worry for herself.

As a TA it was her job to gather the students into a nice group for the teachers to sort out later. What'll happen, she wondered, if I lose one on the job? She glared at the burning building. This isn't a normal situation. With everything going on, it'll hardly be on me if someone doesn't make it out. Sinatra self-assured. She cajoled, reasoned with herself to stay put. Stay put and let the student die? A bitter taste coated her mouth. She pushed the thought further to battle her growing unease.

Why risk it? After all, maybe the student had gotten out and was simply lost in the crowd. Sinatra desperately scanned the entrance for any sign of another student. But there was none.

All there was, was a loose ring of people shouting and pointing at each other, then at the inside of the building. Then at the buses, waving and pointing for a teacher to notice, then at the building. Fuck.

Sinatra looked at the chaos going on and made a split second decision when her gaze fell upon a small opening near the buildings front. She sprinted towards it and avoided all the bodies near the doors. Avoided the hands that desperately reached out and trying to pull her back. Avoided thinking about the pit in her stomach that told her something very, very bad was about to happen.

Inside, the siren still blared. It sent pulsating red lights dancing across the walls like ghosts dancing in a ballroom. Smoke choked everything within its reach. It snaked its way down Sinatra's throat and nose and into her lungs, where it made roost. It was a disorienting mess that left Sinatra light headed and leaning against a wall for support. Glass was strewn across the floors and cut into paper littering the air and ground like snowflakes. Though those "snowflakes" were quickly being eaten by fires raging across every surface. She took a few steps, coughed, hacked. Took some more. Her vision pulsed, same as the siren. Colors danced and blurred in cadence.

She took a deep breath, she couldn't help it. Her lungs choked and her skin burned. The wall no longer served as good support, for its smooth surface had no grip. Sinatra slipped to the floor. It was where she lay gasping, wheezing for air. The worst truth, though, she already knew. She was dying. She was going to cough her bloody lungs out and nobody would know. Her body would be left on the cold floor for all to see, to gawk at and point in morbid curiosity and horror.

My body will probably be nothing but ashes by the time anyone comes back. The thought arrived bitterly. The stupidity of her idea bombarded every pulse of her vision. By now the missing student could have already gotten out and escaped, or the buses could be on their way back while both were trapped here.

The air got heavier, more fuzzy in her eyes. Colored spots turned to red. The lights stopped spinning, the siren stopped wailing, and the people stopped shouting. A cold, dead silence hung over everything like a veil. I don't want to die this early, not like this. Sinatra could no longer move, either. I don't want to die, not like this. Was no longer able to scream for help with throat too raw to let out little more than frenzied gasps. I don't want to die.

A cold shock suddenly bloomed across her body, the first feeling since entering the damned trap of Hell again. Eyes widening in panic, she could only lay limp against whatever was on her. Nor was her racing mind any longer able to discern if it was the helping hand of a firefighter or the grasp of the Grim Reaper. Cold slime slipped beneath her clothes and brushed against bare skin before plunging into her body. Sinatra opened her mouth to scream at the agonizing pain left in its wake. Something was slipping between her skin. Sinatra could feel a pressure shifting throughout her body.

She didn't have long to wonder of its existence. Didn't have long to do much of anything, for within minutes wrapped in the blanket of an eternity, she was no longer able to do anything.

P.O.V Chloe:

Walking up to one of the biggest science labs in California, (Dr. Carves's Research Lab) a girl with sparkling blue eyes clicked her pen in repetition.

"Would you cut that out?!"

Chloe started, then sheepishly put the pen away, ignoring the angry glare of her fellow classmate, Jake. Her mind had found itself wandering through the possibilities of working in such a place as this, for she had always wanted to be a scientist. There were so many options for her after all. Nowadays you could be a marine biologist, botanist, or even a physicist. But what Chloe really wanted to do out of everything, was become a chemist. It was fascinating, the way molecules and atoms and substances all give off such different reactions from one another. Click. Chloe felt her face heat up at the sound, embarrassed at realizing she had started clicking again. She stuffed the pen into her jean pockets.

Chloe stared in wonder at the inside of the research center. Several stories of floors dominated the sky with tall glass ceilings and a pristine cleanliness. The class guide (a friendly, hazel-eyed, short woman) strolled over from one of the buildings many doors. She handed packets out, which Chloe dutifully finished and handed in. Lambeth, Lambeth, she reminded herself. It wouldn't do to forget the guide's name after all, especially just after hearing it be told. Chloe eagerly followed Lambeth through the industry with a smile plastered on her face.

If only my sister could be here! Chloe's smile wiped off in an instant and she flinched. A tiny, hollow voice, tucked back away into the corners of her mind, whispered back. If only my sister cared enough to be here. Lambeth, however, continued to smile and vocalize, and Chloe had to follow.

Eventually Lambeth led the class to the cytology lab, but before she could impress the class with what lay beyond the doors, the alarms went off, signaling that something bad had happened. Everyone started rushing and yelling. Chloe made out snippets of , "An experiments escaped!" to an unbelievable "Bro, get a video!"

Not knowing what to do or where to head, Chloe felt her breathing get shallower and faster. With creeping dread she fought against the inevitable. Her chest tightened to the point of pain and fears started clotting her thoughts in a flies' swarm. The signs of a panic attack were easily registered and recognized for her. Quickly, her feet stole her to the nearest bathroom that she remembered, guided only by faint memory. The class didn't matter anymore. Didn't exist at these moments. Pushing the door open she fell to the floor, trying to calm down and block out the noise of screams. Faint wisps of smoke intruded through the door's cracks. Chloe hurriedly covered her mouth and dropped to her stomach, but to no avail. A searing burn was already lodging itself in her throat.

A muffled thump had Chloe whirling around. She clasped her arms across her chest and drew tightly into herself. A quite slithering against the floor plastered itself to her ears and she quivered there, frozen to the spot, needle-pricking curiosity forcing her to keep her eyes open against all instinct. The bathroom's dim light covered everything in shadows, including whatever was in here with her.

Vision promptly blacking out had Chloe utter a low "Oh no," before passing out, only to get woken up again a few minutes later. Her head felt full of flies, fuzzy and buzzing and oh so common. She had to stop and think about why she was in the bathroom, then all of the events filled up. Quickly getting up, she saw the TA looking down at her with a face twisted in pain and fierce intensity. The TA leaned down and started pulling on Chloe's body.

"Get up! We need to get back to the buses before they leave without us!" she gasped.

Chloe nodded and followed the TA's hazy figure through the bathroom exit and down hallways still choked up with smoke. In all the haze and confusion she never noticed how her lungs didn't burn as much, and she took several needy breaths of air before they finally burst outside.

What awaited them was a scene of horror. Chloe gave a frenzied wail.

I'm going to pass out again, she thought. Always one true to her word, she did.


	2. Chapter 2 (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinatra makes a discovery while Chloe falls apart.

P.O.V Sinatra:

A week and two days have passed since the Field Trip Fire, or (as us students like to call it) "The Big Flame Theory". Some ploy on the beloved show "The Big Bang Theory". I'd heard the nickname from another student as I was being prodded into an ambulance. Seemed like the kind of thing to students would catch on. News of the fire has been the headline on every channel this past week. I had even seen it in the hospital room I had been stuck in, when the nurse left it switched on. Every day, for seven days straight, the same headlines repeated the same cacophony of howls coming from people stuck and fleeing in the building. Then they showed me. And the girl. A wide, blue-eyed sophomore who hardly took a step outside before passing out.

I got up from my desk and crossed to the opposite side of my room where my laptop sat. The muted sun brandished its weak rays against the sleek black chrome and scattered the glint like sprays of blood. There was no chair placed by the computer's corner in order to avoid filling the room's space with unnecessary objects, so I stood.

Stood, and hovered. My hand came up and rested on the mouse, feather-light and smooth in its touch. The mouse's cool exterior nudged against my skin, taunting, until I finally clicked. The login page popped up, disappeared with a few seconds of smooth keystrokes, and replaced itself with a patterned black background. A web-page was brought up and laid bare before me in all its valuable uselessness. The headline read "Lab Fire Miracle Girls". I twitched and quickly scrolled past the title. The article continued on until it stopped midway to show off a video taken from a civilian. The guy managed to catch the girls as they headed off in an ambulance. I hovered the mouse over the play button, taking a second for the pivoting in my gut to decrease. It didn't.

The mouse didn't hover for long. Before I knew what I was doing, the video was already playing. One ambulance was glimpsed charging past, too fast for the camera to not blur. If it hadn't, then people would've seen me. Still coughing out my lungs and choking on my own tongue. Me, trying to not wave away the people helping. Struggling to not push them off so I can go lick my own wounds, but that wouldn't have worked anyway. In a case like this, getting help was better, more important, than my pride. The other ambulance, however, was in focus. It was forced to roll to a stop as a car sped in front of it and cut it off from its brother. A fist shot up and crashed on the little back window repeatedly, before the girl was able to pull herself up all the way and shove her face right next to her fist. The article labeled her as Chloe Hall, a quiet girl who didn't cause trouble. Judging from the video, maybe not so quiet after all. Not so innocent as they thought. But she may very well have a quiet little secret. I watched on with narrowed eyes, cold as flint, secreting a cloud of suspicion that hung in the air.

She was mouthing something to whoever might be watching. Then the ambulance sped away and the camera man followed with labored breathing just in time to see the medical officers attempt to pull Chloe down. The visuals swayed and shifted from pavement-ed roads to grass, then cut to nothing. I re-wound five seconds. The girl was banging.

Four seconds. She was trying to speak.

Two seconds. The ambulance sped away.

I focused. Re-wound. Searched for a familiar little flicker.

There. Three seconds. The girl's eyes were different. Just the same as the last three times I'd checked, same as the first time I'd caught it. Same as the video will always show. Gone were the blue orbs, pulsing with life and terror, calling out to any family she may have. Instead, they were now white. White with a fleck of green in each, and little splatters of black, too, like mold. I leaned closer. The change didn't even last a second. Blink and you miss it. Just a half-second. Even less so, actually. Small enough, fast enough to be a glitch in the camera should anyone attempt that claim. Yet my gut said that wasn't it. New mutant? I pondered. Or just an old one who was never found?

My phone buzzed, snapping me from my musings.

I picked it up and unlocked it. A text icon of unknown number hung at the top alerts bar. I swiped down and tapped it. A message asking about my involvement in the fire greeted me. More specifically, a message asking "have you talked to Chloe? she's asking about u" greeted me. Chloe, who I saved. Chloe, who might be a mutant or similar. Chloe, who'd been asking to speak with me by getting her friend to find out my number. She just wants to talk with her savior. That's not uncommon, whether said savior be Iron Man in his suit, or another fellow student. Either way, she seems like the type to try to say she owes me a life debt now. I smirked at the thought.

Mutants, despite their exile and prosecution in most places, are still people, too. Most of the time they wandered lost, and scared. But always looking for a home, a family whenever they could. Sometimes they got lucky in their search. Sometimes it seems forgettable that they even exist, after everything they've been through. Just another scapegoat to be skinned. But isn't that what makes them human? All their trials, and they're still just trying to find family. I tiredly shook my head, felt my chest expand, exhaled. Heard my throat cough up a dry, humorless chuckle. Family. So important to most people. So large with most people. But my one number hardly sticks around much to be called 'family'.

This disaster fire was important to people, too, for obvious reasons. The article I had found called me and Chloe "Miracle Girls", but right now, that seemed far from the truth. The only good thing to come of the disaster was a frenzy of angry and afraid parents forcing the school to take a two-week long shut down, in fear of their children's lives. Part of that mob included my own father, whom I had nearly cried when seeing he showed up in my hospital stay. He, in turn, already had tears skittering down his face when he visited. I looked away from the screen, of which my, as usual, my gaze had gone foggy on as I lost myself in thought. A wave of nausea pushed up and abruptly swept the floor from beneath my feet, turning my vision tipsy and blurred. I leaned against the wall for support, similar to how a drunk may slump against wherever they lay. I waited for the twisting visuals to right themselves before taking another step. Now that my attention was no longer laser focusing on something, hunger had reared its vicious cobra head. I took a steadying breath and closed my eyes, thankful for the curtain of night that descended upon me. It helped to both dually push down the urge to throw up, and stopped fumes of sickness from overtaking my mouth.

I pushed my bedroom door open and it revealed a sparsely furnished hallway. The light from outside never did manage to reach the end of it no matter how bright the day is. The pale walls were bare, save for a picture of a forest that my dad had bought in an old antique shop, back when we lived in Washington. It was complete with a tiny table situated beneath it with a potted cactus on said table, which was growing quite nicely due to my father's watering effort. When he first got it he suggested I put it in my room. Not much of a problem, unless you count the fact that any plant I'd ever had died quickly. I never could seem to water it enough to keep it alive, I smiled wryly. Making my way through the condo I tried to ignore the gnawing hunger seething within my body. Ever since the fire happened it'd been worse.

More absolute. More frequent. More consuming than hunger ever used to feel. I couldn't tell if I was going to puke or pass out first, and it was infuriating in its distraction.

Ever since getting back from the trip it was as if a hole had been opened within me, and so far there was no end to it. It demanded attention, nourishment, with a deep-seated sensation that seemed nothing less than alien. Even in the hospital I could feel something off. A sensation, a weak squirming foreign in its touch. Something in my body that I nearly attempted to claw out myself. But I'd just do more damage, and I hadn't been fully recovered yet.

Eventually I couldn't stand it. Had I tried, I've no doubt my stomach would have tried eating itself from the inside-out.

Can't stop eating. The day they released me from the hospital my dad insisted he drive me home. I agreed, knowing he would have to leave soon anyway for work. Turns out he took the day off. Sweet. But difficult for what I had had planned. I told him I was going out to get air yesterday, just take a walk. Reluctantly he had agreed, thought it sounded like a good idea to clear my head after what happened.

But really, I was just hungry. I needed to get away, to go find some poor bastard with unguarded money. I have my own money, I just didn't want to use it. A guy walking in front of me provided an easy score, much to my pleasant surprise. He'd had a few 20$ bills sticking out, unbeknownst to him, of course. He didn't even notice them when they were gone. It was for food, to soothe the hunger, but it wasn't enough. However, luckily for my never-ending hunger, the fridge was always well stocked, and my dad had gone to work today. I grabbed a pack of smoked salmon and felt my insides twist in anticipation. A swelling of drool coated the inside of my mouth in a slick puddle. I shuddered and gripped the edge of a counter as another wave of nausea washed over me. Hell, maybe I'm a mutant, too, I joked.

I opened the salmon and glanced down at it. The salmon lay in a soggy lump that, despite looking no different than ever, seemed disgusting, so unlike its usual appeal. I grimaced, wondered if there was something better to find that wouldn't set my stomach on edge. My mind suddenly, swiftly jogged through memories like an open book. I twisted my features in confusion.

It was if something was forcing me to look back. Forcing me to be a passenger. Building panic clawed its way up with the strength of a mountain lion. My teeth grit together as I frantically attempt to stop, but I can't. Whatever's happening would not bend. Finally it came to rest on my 8th grade year, 4th period. Mrs. Black was bustling around, trying to make sure no one was messing around. We (the class) were dissecting a brain for the first time. A sheep's brain. I'd always wanted to dissect something, and enjoyed it.

I enjoyed poking it. Seeing how easily the scalpel sliced.

Enjoyed examining every fascinating part, wondering how such a little thing governed over everything, but already knowing every part of it.

Wondered what it'd be like to dissect something larger.

The hole opened, and I could only watch as my 8th grade self held up a piece of brain on the end of a scalpel, and how I thought to myself back then how it looked so much like tofu, and I'd had the sudden urge, desire, even, to taste. An urge so much stronger now that left me doubled-over and gasping.

I wiped away at my mouth and uttered a low groan. An acidic burn was catching on my gasps and sending little bolts of pain up my throat for me to hack out. The nausea doubled ten-fold and I blindly reached into the salmon packet and shoved several pieces into my mouth. My arms shook and trembled under the weight of a fleeting suspicion that, despite all my reasoning, nudged and bubbled just under the skin. I need help.

And yet, through it all, I can't quite get that brain out of my head. Its vivid image clotted my eyes and stole my breath.

I could still see it, positioned on the scalpel, looking like nothing more than food on a knife. I had never understood why people ate brains, not until that moment. Because staring at that tofu-like piece made everything click into place, like the final piece of a long, unfinished puzzle.

What's wrong with me?

"I need help," I mutter. My skin still trembled and my stomach still swam, but I can't stay here like this.

Whatever had caused this was already narrowed down to the school's field trip lab. Everything wrong only started after I got back, and that was surely no coincidence. Damn lab.

I swallowed, tasting the cold remnants of salmon, and started across the building's kitchen towards my room. I was alone today, a good thing, all things considered. It's unlikely anyone would believe a word of what's happening. A world where Avengers are real, including powered people, along with aliens and monsters, was still a world populated with the unbelieving. Those, the majority of people, still turned a blind eye whenever a strange event on a personal scale crops up. But really, is that so surprising?

Whatever sickness the lab had given me surely wouldn't be taken seriously, and though there was danger in not alerting anyone to what's happening, there's also much less time-consuming nuisances. A million questions, a million experiments, a million useless minutes before anyone finally even tried to find the problem. And by then, it'd already be to late.

Besides, I'm not going to be shipped off to a mental hospital on my last year of high school.

I slipped back into my room and closed the door.

\----------------------------------------------------------

I was perched on a bar stool near the kitchen counter when I heard the condo's entrance doors open with a rush of air. Quiet tread falls made their way across the floor. My dad, no doubt. Home early from a lucky shift that never came often enough. His voice drifted over from the entrance. "Hey kid, how you feeling?"

"How you feeling" was now his usual greeting. It was his response to me nearly dying ten days ago, and really I couldn't blame him. At least I had someone who cared. It was nice, in a way.

Shrugging, I picked up my coffee . It was sitting beside the book my attention had been converged upon. It's cover was worn from time despite my efforts at keeping it in good condition. For a while quiet sipping was the only sound filling the empty air. Peaceful.

He sighed and took a seat beside me. "Come on, Sinatra." His voice was kind, soft, yet tired, as if I were a fragile glass doll someone had burdened onto him, with careful instructions on how to handle said doll each and every day. And it pushed my annoyance to no end. I could feel more than see his blue eyes wrinkle in concern. "I'm alright, Dad." And then, because I knew he would want more, " The girl I saved was worse off than me. I was cleared, the doctors let me leave. I'm fine." I gave a smile that I hope translated to "I love you, please stop worrying". I was never very good with social cues, so I could never be sure if I was sending the right message. People always seemed to get the wrong idea anyhow, so I never bother giving cues anymore when it's a pointless endeavor.

He sighed, a painful thing, the sigh of an old man who knew he could not change the mind of his stubborn daughter. He paused, "Just tell me if there's something wrong. Alright? This old man can't take many surprises, so you let me know if there's something wrong."

Nodding, I subtly shifted my head towards the book. He took his cue and left me with a pat on the back. His touch lingered far after he left, but it'd never show.

\----------------------------------------------------------

I took another peek at my bedside clock and huffed. Neither body nor mind was tired tonight. It was already 2:00 in the fucking morning and I hadn't been able to get a wink of sleep yet. After my dad left me with my book wings of twilight slowly descended upon the sky, fading the sun out till it was no more.

I closed my eyes and focused. Nothing but black filled my vision, lit up briefly by flashes of green and red that faded too quick to make sense of. Chattering voices and honking cars broke the room's silence into jagged pieces with the care of a saw, but despite this I grasped at what lay beyond those sounds. At the small spots of bound silence. My body slowly relaxed, and the tension started draining from my muscles one by one. My mind finally tried to burrow into the welcome embrace of sleep's clutches.

No, not yet. My body was yanked out of half-sleep by a hasty lurching sensation that sent electric currents of fear pulsing through my mind.

I opened my eyes, stiffened, waited with tense muscles. The voice didn't come again, but that just made me all the more weary. I shifted my arms beneath me and pushed myself up in a slow, cautious motion.

Not yet, it repeated. It sounded... Mirthful. We need to talk. You'll want to listen, it whispered.

My mouth ran dry.

My breathing slowed, turned heavy.

A strange pulsing covered my body. I stayed silent, stealthily crept my hand toward my phone resting on my bedside table. I grabbed it, clicked it on, watched as the faint light spilled over my room. Shadows curled and writhed around the edges, hungry to snuff it out and converge upon the room to bathe it back in oily darkness. I strained my eyes, looking for another body with a dubious, last attempt to deny my suspicions.

Don't do that. It's deep, silky voice hissed in amusement. Or do you see me as some "intruder"? It crooned. A slight lilt colored the words this time, oddly female sounding for a timbre so deep.

My voice cracked, but I forced myself to speak. "Listen to what?" A creeping sense of dread clung to my senses and bound me in chains. Chains of which I had no key.

The voice hissed, rattled again. I need something you can't provide. So I'll need you, to get it. 

Which is what, exactly?" I swallowed. A heavy, dreadful feeling, like lead, convinced me I already know what that "something" is. The image of a grey blur hovered just on the edge of my mind. An even greater sense of dread, morbid in its curiosity, wanted and me to go further. Yet it warned me to stay away. I didn't listen.

"Who... What are you?"

P.O.V Chloe:

Shivering on the floor my body was. Cold seeped through my skin and penetrated the blankets piled on top of me. I glanced up at the bird-style clock hanging above my desk. The minute hand ticked ever so slowly forward, and yet still it feels like already hours have already passed.

However long it had actually been since last I puked may not be as dramatic as hours, but it certainly seemed like I had been lying here for that long. I could still taste the puke and acrid stench in my mouth, it was etched into my tongue like ink. My stomach coiled again and I clutched at the pile of sheets beneath me.

Getting out of bed I stumbled to the bathroom, thanking God for letting me have the house to myself today. I leaned over the toilet and puked again, heaving out the burning acid of an empty stomach. My muscles contracted with the effort and I struggled to breath between the pauses.

Once done, I flushed the toilet, then wiped and rinsed my mouth.

Even the reflection in the mirror looked sick, complete with bags under the eyes and sweat shining across the forehead in a thin layer. It's still me, I assured myself. Pale and faded, but the still me.

"Hey, Hallhall!"

I jumped out of my skin and watched the face in the mirror contort in confusion. Only my sister calls me that nickname. I whirled and shut the bathroom door with a loud bang. "Yeah?" I shouted.

"I got burgers, hurry up and come on down here." Her voice, so usually muffled from the downstairs, was ringing clear as day.

I fidgeted and tangled my hand through my short brown locks. "I thought you said you were gonna be working till 9?"

The voice answered from the first floor. "Yeah, well," shuffling, "we got off early tonight!"

I hesitated. That was hardly my sister's pattern. And at the very least if she did get off early it wasn't usual for her to stick around for long. I glanced at my reflection again and opened the bathroom door. I got down just in time to observe my sister setting out the food.

The mere sight of it set me on edge, and I had to force myself to not rush over and cram everything into my mouth, as was per habit of late.

"Hey, Carole," I greeted.

She turned her gaze and took in the rumpled state of my clothes and hair. "What happened to you?"

My eyes flicked to a new found interesting spot on the floor and focused on mapping out the details. "Sick," was all I could muster up.

"Kinda already figured." She turned back around and my heart sank. Is it to much for her to ask how I feel?

"Here," she held a burger out. I carefully took it. A chasm opened under me and I felt sick. A gnawing hunger bit and clawed at my insides. A sensation that was strong enough for me to feel fear at whenever I was around others.

I sharply swung my gaze to my sister and blurted out, "I need to finish my homework. Mr. Baine gave us a new assignment and I forgot, but I love the burgers," before bounding upstairs and through the 2nd story hallway to my room.

There was no way Carole didn't hear the stumbles in my voice. I waited with baited breath behind closed doors, but no sounds of any kind followed my trail. Once more the sinking of a cracked heart rose up in all its familiar pain, but it was quickly overshadowed by relief. At least Carole's attitude meant I could still be alone for now.

Ever since "The Big Flame" I had been cramming my mouth with everything edible I could get my hands on. It never seemed to be enough, no matter what I ate or how much. I had cleared out the entire pantry and fridge and finally moved on to the cupboards by the time my parents found me. In my frenzied rush they had gawked as if they were observing some new, strange animal in a cage. Only when my mother grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away did the haze in my mind clear.

My body shook in remembrance. Me and my savior had been rushed to the hospital straight away, then they took us to separate rooms and that was the last I'd seen of my hero so far. The person who'd saved me instead of leaving me broken on that bathroom floor. I don't even know her name, I thought sadly. I was still so disoriented then, so much of that entire trip was foggy. But even through that fog there was a constant. A constant, new source of fear that made my head whirl and my insides shake.

Insanity.

Hello.

"Hello," I choked out. The words were a mouses' quiet whisper for fear of being swallowed by the cat.

You're so scared.

I swallowed. With hardly a breath, I gave it an answer.

"I am."


	3. Chapter 3(2)

P.O.V Sinatra:

(Thursday night)

 **I'm an alien. A** ** _Klyntar._** Blackness, surrounding everything. **I'll** ** _protect_** **you**. Enveloping my body and mind. I struggled for air, I fought for my body. I bent to its will, I let myself go. It moved in silky threads around my joints, like a cage pressing around every millimeter of my being. Its touch was gentle, soft, fragile and firm. My vision is an absolute blindness straining my eyes, and I could feel my pupils dilate in response. No matter how hard I tried, my body would not respond to insistent tugging. Instead, all I can feel are my hands pushing on the mattress to get up. It's odd, the disconnect between the mattress and my hand. As if my nerves were dulled, unable to fully feel. But it felt like, at the same time, as if another layer of skin was doing the feeling for me, in a way that's still connected to my original epidermis. The blanket lay piled on the side, its protection long forgotten. Instinctively I kept struggling against the force moving my body.

 ** _Calm_** **down.** The silky strands nudged me with a little more force. Irritation flared up and I forcibly shoved my body back down. It retaliated with a hiss.

 _Calm down? For the alien in me?_ Ice hardened out the fear, covered the words in armor and sent them cutting towards the voice. A spike of impatience cracked against my head like a slap. **_Fine_** **,** it (she?) bit out. Her aggravation jutted like bones against thinly stretched skin, but lacking even a hint of concealment. **Want your** ** _body back_** **so** ** _bad_** **?**

The image of someone snapping their fingers appeared, hovered like mist, until it began pulling itself to the forefront of my mind when suddenly, inexplicably, the force withdrew and ceased its prodding. I flexed my fingers, testing their movement. Waited with baited breath, expecting control to be wrenched back away within moments. But that didn't happen. I tested them again. They felt, along with the strange disconnect, odd. Too long. Too sharp. I experimentally swept the tip of one across the mattress. The tip caught, then the sound ripping followed soon after. _What have you done?_ Beneath the curiosity, the still-hammering heartbeat, lingered a steady pulse of fear. **I'm** ** _showing_** **you.** The reply sounded like a child on Christmas morning, anxious to wake their parents and run 'em downstairs to open gifts as soon as possible. A jittery sort of anticipation that leaked right back to me.

 ** _Look_** **at yourself**. Amusement curled snake-like in my organs. _I can't see!_ I retorted. Rising panic built upon my unease as I realized the truth of the statement. They simmered under the surface of my control. _My eyes still work,_ I assured myself. _Neither gone nor broken. Just covered._ Blocked off by this inky, slithering _thing_ that wouldn't stay still. I shuddered. **Then** ** _let_** **me show you.** The voice was everywhere at once, rumbling like a bass stereo full of depth. Powerful. Tempting. It was alluring. I shut my eyes for a second, took a breath in. The temperature tonight hovered at a chilling 48 degrees, yet my body felt overheated and humid. _And tired_. My muscles ached. My eyes, despite the adrenaline, ached. Her offer is a debate to be made, a careful one. One that I, against all instinct, already knew the answer to. I reluctantly relaxed my grip on the bed until, one by one, the claws were resting motionless, instead of digging into the bed-frame. Spine-tingling anticipation tore through me before being quickly retracted and clamped down on, but it wasn't my own. And yet, it's strength urged me on while simultaneously driving me further away. It felt too alien, too invasive. My spine went lax. It gently fell back onto the awaiting mass of tendrils. They were poised and ready to catch.

Not on my own accord my body began moving again, but it was careful (a feat considering I could taste the energy being withheld), and kept me from being jostled too much at the movement. **_I'll show you_** **,** she repeated. The tangle of tentacles hardened and interwove into each other before finalizing a more solidified and stable form. Slick, cool patches of wood tickled underfoot as she stood us up. What felt like tip-toes was the method of walking, helped by what felt like only two toes being used. I felt the steps of the smooth gait, recognized the direction we were headed before we got there. The destination sat just across from my bed and took no less or more than seven steps to reach. If I could see, I would've seen a full-bodied mirror facing us. A simple one both hung and propped against the wall. I would have seen dust covering its edges, would have seen my own face. **Watch.**

I felt a budding sense of disconnect, then nothing. Everything quickly shut off. The unease, the writhing pile of emotions, dulled. All I'm left with is a blankness, because now, and not for the first time, there was just nothing to feel. The final, unwanted step to protect myself. And _that_ , is familiar.

My mouth opened, but it felt wrong. My chest took in air, but the pressure on top seemed too large. **Let me help you,** she whispered. The covering over my eyes peeled back to allow dull light from the outside to filter through. The city was bright, every night, but through my window it didn't seem so. But it gave enough this night. Enough for me to make out what was staring back at me. Cold shock washed over my bones. It twisted knife-like into my skin with no way to fend off. I couldn't stop staring at the creature, the _thing_ - **How rude** \- staring back at me in the mirror. It was the kind of thing you would expect a child to see when they say there's a monster under the bed. Nothing was more nightmarish than what's standing before me now, whose body is perfectly illuminated in pale outwash. It had no eyes except for my own peering through. Two long, bumpy tongues protruded from a hood like some twisted version of hair. Jagged teeth that gleamed pristine white were slick from spit, and a large maw curved into an inappropriately cheerful smile.

The hood's reddish-pink inside prompted some maniacal part of my brain to start singing "Little Red Riding Hood". The only problem with the song in this scenario, is that Little Red Riding Hood is not some cheerful little girl. Whatever is standing before me would have no trouble playing the wolf. The hood was lined with small teeth whose wicked edges curved every which way. More spike-like teeth decorated and outlined the body. They ran everywhere, with some lines even reaching down to my ankles. A thin, elongated, raptor-like claw grew from each ankle and clicked against the floor. A white band circled just above my knees and laid home to an odd pattern of circles branching above.

 **"This is you...? What you're made of."** A feeling of silent confirmation responded **.** I lifted a knife thin claw and carefully ran it over my -ours, hers?- arm. I doubled back. **"That's not my voice."** It rang so much smoother, so much surer than mine ever did.

 **Actually, it's** ** _my_** **voice, but** ** _since_** **I'm covering you, it's now** ** _our_** **voice.** The voice seemed amused at the questions. **And stop calling me "voice", or I'm afraid I'll have an...** ** _Issue._** The cold slither at the end of the sentence knotted a loop of fear in my chest, which I quickly forced down. I carefully rested our claws against our chest, holding firm and keeping any wavers from entering my voice. **"Then what** ** _do_** **you want me to call you? You still haven't told me."**

A force yanked my hand down to my side, right before my body spread both arms out and leaned back. My eyes were covered once more, cutting out my sight in a blink. I panicked and yanked at my arms before that same heavy force straightened my head towards the mirror. The jagged maw opened, revealing fleshy pink insides glistening with saliva. Suddenly I-the voice- _our_ body- let out a prideful shriek. It rose high and sharp in an ear-splitting crescendo before cutting out. A brief, intense spike of adrenaline surged at my worry of it waking Dad. My vision swam afterwards, but I _saw._ Or, felt, rather. But more than that, it was disorienting. The vibrations from the call lingered and vibrated off the walls, outlining everything and creating what's effectively a grey blueprint. Objects were outlined, their true details fuzzed out, but still mostly legible. The image stuck after the sound ended, and it was clear. Even objects behind me were now known. Her voice came again, high off my sudden rush, and I couldn't help but shake in unhinged, silent glee. **"** ** _Sonar_** **,"** she caressed.

**"I like it, what do** **_you_ ** **think?"**

"I think it's time you showed me everything your species can do." A wicked smile was playing over my mouth, and it felt good.

She laughed, and that felt good, too. Minuscule pin-pricks of neediness were starting to poke through her careful concealment. And even that, dangerous as may be, bombarded my inquisitive desire. **Alright, we may as well.** I took one final look back, felt one final streak of concern for Dad, before she launched us out the window.

* * *

_Be careful!_

My request was met with maniacal laughter. " **But** ** _isn't_** **this fun! Do you not** ** _feel_** **that** ** _beating_** **heart** ** _?"_**

My stomach churned in another head-pounding drop. Sonar's control over my- **our** \- body, was still unsettling. Especially when she was using it to run across rooftops with no concern for our lack of sight. Veering across another split of concrete, Sonar launched herself off another building and let us drop for longer than usual. I can feel her relishing in my pounding whirl of emotions. My equilibrium tumbled and bile rose in my throat.

 ** _"You must_** **learn to not be** ** _so_** **worrisome, you know."** Frustration curdled like milk in the sun. The rush of free-falling was exhilarating. That's undeniable, but it was sickening when every drop made me want to hurl. The navigation of echolocation didn't help ease me up, either.

Sonar dug her claws into the side of the building she had jumped off until we jerked to a halt with her claws splitting the stone. We hung there, bathed in the light of an over-filled city. It outlined our coiling, inky darkness against the night and cast shade to Sonar's never-ending shadow. The building's glass windows were broken, shattered, with their pieces long gone and lost to the shambles of the city. Moss invaded the wounds and crept inside like worm. Lucky for us, Sonar had kept to the more abandoned parts of the city. The parts of the city where buildings are nothing than husks and the people are sparingly spread out.

 **"Try** ** _to_** **enjoy** ** _it_** **,"** she purred. _I'd enjoy it more if there wasn't puke in my mouth._ **There** ** _is_** **no puke in your** ** _mouth_** **!** Sonar's displeasure radiated along my nervous system. It looped back to me and my irritation only grew. With a snort and a thoughtful hmm, Sonar climbed to the buildings top once more and situated herself on the crumbling roof.

She turned to face the opposite edge, then backed up several long steps. The velociraptor claws clicked against the ground. We dropped to the one knee, head hanging low, waiting. A fire suddenly washed over me, red hot and blazing. Never was there any doubt of who it came from. It was a fire of snap-decision determination. Sonar snapped our head up and I could feel her concentration range pinpointing in an arrow. Nervous caution seeped into my bones at the behavior. Sonar burst to her feet with a laugh and, with no chance of me stopping her, practically flew across the rooftop. She screamed out a shrill burst, highlighting everything in grey, and cleared the entire distance in a few lightning-paced steps. Flinging herself off the roof in such brazen behavior made my heart thud against my rib-cage with all the sudden panic of a person who has a gun in their face. We descended towards the ground with no signs of slowing, and I clenched in preparation for the sick sensation soon to follow.

But it never came.

Sonar shot out a tendril and latched herself onto the top of another building, letting us swing down a few more seconds before sharply pulling up in a thrilling rush of speed. It was different from before. It was reckless. It was _free._ My muscles clenched and strained under the pressure, but I hardly had time to focus on their pain, for within seconds she was shooting upwards from the arc and heaving us onto another rooftop. We dug our feet onto the rim of the rooftop. I felt the concrete crumble under the pressure as we used the momentum to fling ourselves back off. She shrieked, aimed for another building to the side, and latched onto it. We jerked up and rolled onto the roof before she flung out her claws and skidded to a halt.

Had I not been completely covered, and thus rendered nearly immobile at the moment, I'm sure I would be shuddering in an adrenaline high. My breathing came out in breathless gasps of laughter.

 **Better now?** Her smug satisfaction crept across to me. **If humans get** ** _sickness_** **so** ** _easily_** **from falling, you should have** ** _let_** **me know beforehand. It** ** _would_** **have been much easier** ** _._** I shook my head ** _._** _Seems like you figured it out fine on your own. Maybe me yelling about it the entire time had something to do with your epiphany._ Deep, soothing chuckling answered my words. **"Want to** ** _see_** **the rest?" Of what we can do.**

Thrill-ride excitement spread out in my nervous system, but now it's hard, hard to differentiate who it belongs to. Me, or Sonar. I can't even tell. And I don't care.

Thin double-blades extended from my wrists. They dug into the roof we're still kneeling on. A show of power from her, one fueled by that same neediness. **"I can't risk expelling myself by swinging, so** ** _I_** **hope** ** _climbing_** **is alright to you** ** _from_** **now on** ** _."_** A shame, but understandable. _Fine by me,_ I replied. She smiled. A horrifying sight, were anyone around to see her gaping maws and teeth. **"I would take you underwater, but I don't quite think** ** _you like_** **water."** A vicious joy followed the accusation. _No. Not if I can avoid it._ My suspicions of another being in my mind and body slipped back. **"** ** _Fine by me."_**

A splitting scream of alarm cut the night. My body tensed and I tried in vain to stay down. To wait. To watch. But Sonar forced us up. Her heightened senses filtered the screech of far away cars, the slight murmur of people, and the whistling wind. The scream came from in front of us just a ways away. She crept closer. Soft snarling filled the space around her. _Let's get out of here._

 **We need to head** ** _that_** **way to get home anyway,** ** _why_** **not** ** _investigate_** **? Besides,** she drawled, **there's nothing on this planet that can harm me. Well, not anything some low-level crook can get at least.** My heart still jack-rabbited despite the "reassurance". My instincts warned me off. My mind told me to slip away, to vanish, before anyone even realizes we were here.

**"Why?"**

_To get away unharmed and away from danger while keeping any spoils I have._ My dry tone of thought was met with silence _._ I can feel a silent debate going on in her, like a ghost. After a minute the sensation ended, and Sonar dropped us the rest of the way towards the ground. She uncovered my body before reappearing as a hoodie. The hood was still lined with teeth, as were my shoulders and back, same as when she completely covered me. **You'll be able to get closer without arousing so much suspicion.** We landed in a strip of narrow alleyway. From down here, all the light of the city which stood so starkly contrasted to the natural entrapment of the night, was now muted, and colorless. We cast no shadow, for there was no warmth to encase the outline. Garbage cans spilled across the cracked floor with all the care of the person who had left them here. Apprehension crept through my mind following Sonar's actions. Dark alleyways like this were never something I liked to be in, even during the day time. There are plenty of cold bodies in these kinds of places, and I took care to make sure I would never end up one of them. **_You'll_** **be safe with me.** I muddled up some gratitude and pushed it towards her. We kept the wrist-knives out and started walking. One step, then two, three, four. I was tensed, and only getting closer to an unknown incident.

"No!" A shout from in front had us whipping our head towards the source. Sonar rustled and a low growl entered my head. Far away from a nearby street light, about a block ahead of us, came the sound of a garbage can hitting the ground. Then the squelch of the garbage being stepped on. The alley gave no clues to what was going on, but already I knew. At this level of closeness, the need to be certain tugged at me. And that's why I needed to get away.

_We need to leave. Now._

**And** **_where's_ ** **the fun in** **_that?_ **

"Where's the fun in getting us _slaughtered?"_ My words came out disgusted. **Don't pretend you don't want to,** Sonar sang. **Besides** ** _,_** **I'll** ** _protect_** **you.** Long claws seeped out of skin and enveloped my hands in a stubborn barrier. _Killing people isn't exactly protecting me._

**Isn't it?**

Staring off into the alley's darkness did nothing to help sheathe my curiosity. My eyes narrowed in anger. Anger was useful, anger would keep me on guard. We descended into the darkness with ought a sound, for our steps were planned and light. The further we moved in, the louder the sound gets. An odd sound, a squishing sound. Yet it doesn't disturb me as much as it should. Every few seconds it'll stop, only to be replaced by something _new._ A loud crunch, the bang of a garbage can. A _chuckle_. Still Sonar was drawn in, almost hypnotically. A buried, primal instinct seemed to be leading us both. It guided us closer where I didn't want to go, and then I realize, my body is no longer my own. Not anymore, for my will no longer controls it. Still, my own fascination lets it happen without much resistance, and all the while my brain screams at me to stop.

We rounded the corner. A sickly-sweet, copper smell invaded my nostrils. It burned until I could practically _taste_ it. Sonar foamed inside my gut, as rabid a dog could ever be. A large, white back blocked our sight from the source of the scent. The creature had to be nearly 7 ½ feet when standing, and even hunched it's taller than I. Two muscled arms appeared to be grabbing at something on the ground. A rat-like tail swished across the ground, arrowed tip dark and dangerous. Its shiny white surface was dotted with clusters of swirling black spots. They were infused upon the body in a way that seemed no other than ink spreading across parchment. But the slickness of the skin seemed familiar. Then the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. _It's one of you. It's a Klyntar!_

The creature stopped munching. It inched its head back, slow, very much a predator to my prey. White eyes shone, swirling with the bright reflection of a cat's irises at night. Panic stormed and ran rampant at its unhinged, empty gaze. Desperation muddled my thoughts, my actions, and I could only plead for Sonar as the creature stood up.

The beast swung its body at me and I ducked back slamming my body against the corner. My back hit the wall with a thud that left me wincing. Pain blossomed in my shoulder, but the beast missing me is worth it. It landed in a hunched position and stopped. _Sonar!_ I screamed her name. There was no way I would even have a chance at getting away from this thing on my own.

It sprung to its feet and barreled towards me again. I dodged, this time swiping out with the claws still covering my hands. They drew a satisfying growl of pain from the creature, who lay clutching its side as its substance dripped from its body. It stared at me and howled, running again. Once more I dodged, barely a hair's length away, dancing out of the way and waiting. Too unfocused to actually fight, even if I knew how to. Too sharply focusing on its details to do anything about them. My options were limited to a dead end one way, an empty street the other. And Sonar, still unresponsive save for the twisting against my bones, would not help. There's no doubt this beast won't hunt me down until I'm dead and buried. _Dead and eaten, more like._

It came at me again and again, each attempt closer than the last, each time ending with a claw slicing a little deeper into my skin. I stumbled across the garbage littered floor, slipping against bottles and slime and frantic to escape. My back hit the wall again and, in a last-ditch effort to save myself, I put my arms up, unthinkingly letting them take the brunt of every hit. Let the blood run down in scarlet ribbons to stain the floor. My body was getting tired. My muscles ached. My mind scrambled. And still Sonar writhed at the smell of blood and rotting skin only a few feet away. The beast's claws scraped against mine in a strangely metallic shriek. I grit my teeth and forced my body to weather the impact. My knees nearly buckled, and before I could right myself it was on me. Its whipped across the air in a fever. My mouth opened in a silent shout of pain as the tail's sharp end dug into my upper arm. "Dammit Sonar!" My voice cracked with the implication of near tears. _You wanted to do this, now help me! I'll be damned if I'm going to die because of you! Not like this._ Claws shredded into my skin wherever they could reach. Arms, sides, stomach, again and again until fresh blood was the only color between us. My eyes shut tight and I held my head down out of danger while I gathered myself. My muscles were clenched and buckling under the strain and torrent of abuse, and it started to feel numb. My eyes shot open and I focused my gaze behind the creature. I stared at a wall, vision spotted, using it as a focusing point. Repeating a mantra in my head. All my life, no matter the pain, it doesn't matter. My pain doesn't matter because others have it worse. _But that doesn't make me better._ Even now, the pain wouldn't matter to anyone. But it used to. It used to matter when my family was in a shambled shack in the woods. But that time is done now, so now my pain doesn't matter to others anymore. _So it shouldn't matter to me,_ I spat. My anger built, fortified, everlasting and furious. Ever strong, because I _don't matter._ Because _there's always someone worse, right?! Well, that's not me, not this time! This time I won't be the one who's worse off!_

The creature jerked its arm up, claws outstretched, going for a kill. Its eyes shone glaring, the only color against the sky. Its collar of teeth stood imposing against the night. I struck at its moment of triumph. At its unprotected body. Strong claws with lethal ends glinting in malice, struck. They connected, catching it across the chin and skimming across its eye. It reeled back, screeching, clawing where bits of its "skin" had splattered off. Sick delight coupled with a cornered animals desperation and pain sent me launching myself at the creature in reckless fury. Sweet crimson rolled and dripped from my wounds, filling me with twisted determination. I propelled my body and twisted away from the beast's outstretched arm. Drawing both hands at the ready, I pushed into the air. My legs forced my mass off the ground higher than I would've thought possible, had I not been recently infused with an alien. Time stood still above the beast's head. Up in the air, I could see the outline of its curled ram horns.

 _What a sight, another body to litter the world._ Gravity brought me hurtling back down the instant my arc reached its peak. A cruel smile played upon my lips. The lumbering shape looked up, widened its pupil-less eyes at me, and howled in pain as claws came raking down across its back without mercy, digging in and tearing away in frightening exhilaration. Its tail raked across my cheek before, drawing a slice of skin away before I growled and trapped it in my grasp. Black, inky tendrils waved out of my body in dazed aggression. The sharpened tail end slithered part way out of my grip. I grunted through gritted teeth. The tail eluded my grasp, aided by the beast's frenzied attempts at getting me off its back. I caught and pinned it once more. My entire body is nearly encompassed by black, completed by flashes of interlocking pink and white. A force pushed against my mind. It insistently goaded me on in excitement. "No," I bit out. Some part of me was still pleading to stop, to not go through with this. Frustration corroded my view and I did what she prompted me to do. I placed a single claw against the middle of the tail's length, and swiped.

And tore. And pulled. Finally, within seconds of several extra tendrils helping the disgusting impulse, the tail severed and went still. The end of it dropped to the ground with a thump. The creature screamed and spasmed as its substance pulled away from its body. It flung itself into the dirty alley wall, effectively crushing me and making me lose grip. I slid down in a heap of ragged breathing and short-circuiting vision. The creature's substance pulled away from its hosts body. Tendrils swirled and clashed in the air in a spectacle of unbound chaos. Glimpses of pale hair, ripped clothes and a screaming mouth, was all that could be seen underneath the alien.

 **"Shit,"** I breathed. Fear was starting to creep back at the display and agonizing screams.

Soon the creature pulled itself back in and took a solid form again. Sonar swelled and overtook me, blanking out my vision to complete darkness once again. I felt it's wide, opal eyes trained on me until I growled and flexed my claws at it. It took a few steps back, then ran towards a building wall and jumped up. Digging its claws in, it scaled the wall and pulled itself onto the roof in seconds. I lay panting in silence, catching my breath in wait for it to come back. Only it didn't. The night ambiance ticked onward, comprised of shuffling feet and car horns instead of crickets and frogs. The night scent was replaced by the still-lingering scent of food. Sonar pulled some of herself back, but left herself over my mouth. **Food.**

The smell of blood lay stewing from the corpse that the creature had left behind. Its scent rose in steam the way one might expect to see from a freshly cooked turkey on Thanksgiving night. All fresh and enticing, rich in a way that had you slavering at the mouth.

_No..._

**_Please!_** Her desperate voice entrapped my attention immediately. Had Sonar ever said "please"? Since when had she ever sounded... Sounded so desperate? In pain? I rose up. My claws scraped against the gravel and I pushed. The scent was to strong. It was sweet, like a berry surrounded by thorns. A fresh carcass. A trap. Its juicy reward collected only after getting harmed. A test. One I could not avoid, for I was already bound, and Sonar's stricken need was forever pushing us onward.

I crouched next to the mangled body. Long, jagged marks had been left embedded on flesh and bone. Deep crevices marred its surface, yet they were strategical. The marks collected closer to the main veins and dug into them with more ferocity. The heaviest set was located directly at the neck with a quick, clean break. _At least he went quick. This damage was done after. It's sadistic._ The man's casual set of clothes lay in shreds around his body. But still, it isn't what we're looking for. Gently taking the back of his head under a claw and turning him to face me gave me reeling shivers. The top of his head was missing. A dark hole greeted me where his brain was supposed to be. His head was empty.

No, not entirely empty. Slime oozed out of the ears and leaked out the eye sockets and sloshed inside the man's head, but there was still something in there. A chunk of something lay waiting in the dark. It was peaceful, patient. Waiting. My fingers clenched. My heart hammered and I forced myself to lean over the man's exposed skull socket. A sheen of slime lay glistening off the chunk. My other hand reached in and, careful to avoid touching the edges of the skull, picked up the chunk. It was only half, but it was enough. Grey and white branches of color were set in specific patterns, but it didn't smell as bad as it should have. All too quickly, I was in my 8th grade class again, holding up this thing that held all the pieces of what someone is made of. Their personality, their dreams, their memories. It's not a soul, not God, who made us who we are. It's this. Sonar's hunger was still being spat at me and dousing me in acidic venom. It was all to easy to imagine the pleas Sonar was silently making. All to easy to use it as a distraction.

**Now!**

_People die all the time. At least this one won't be a waste. This one will be a help. If he has a family, they won't know, but he'll be a help. We all die._ I paused. _But we all don't get eaten after our death._

Still, the brain was now to my mouth despite my continuously dropping gut. And really, I had no hope of denying her any longer. Not when her hunger so easily placed itself into the pit of my own stomach. I opened my mouth, felt her cover me fully once more. It gave me a merciful break from seeing what I'm about to do. In one quick motion, she tore off half the brain. Its slimy texture slipped easily down our throat. Before I had even completely swallowed it I was moving onto the other half. The two hood-tongues wrapped themselves around the air in excitement.

My mind went numb, tinted only by surprise and horror. Sonar calmed down with but a sigh of ease. A tremor ran through my body at it. Burying my face in my hands I held back the quick approaching sob building in my throat, but much too soon it ripped its way free. Before long I was left curling back into myself with shuddering gasps and a swimming head. My moment lasted no longer than any other brief response to sudden sadness. Only minutes. I attempted to wipe my eyes before realizing I was unable to. It seemed like forever, the time I sat there. Wasting away, numb. _It was food_. Sonar said it was food. She needs food. _I had to, I have to. He was already dead, I didn't kill him. He was useful, I didn't kill him. I needed him, I took what he had to give, because I could._

 _It's not like he was using it anymore anyway._ A dark edged humor sliced through my thoughts like a dagger before vanishing, only to be replaced by a dim, melancholy veil. **We need to.** I jumped and mentally screamed in a furious, protective, thorny barrier of outrage. _I'm going to kill you!_

 **You can't live without me,** she hissed.

 _Can't I?_ Even inside my head my tone was biting. _What have you given me that's so great?! Becoming a cannibal? Another killer in the news to be categorized and locked up! Another face, another story of the deranged monster._ Another choked out sob came out. _I'm a monster._

 **Oh, but little one, y** ** _ou_** **said so yourself** ** _._** **You** ** _never_** **killed anyone, an alien did. We simply** ** _took_** **what we** ** _needed,_** she strained.

And... Wasn't that true? My mix of emotions ebbed, leaving me behind to sift through them. Self-disgust, yes. At myself, her, at that creature that left the body rotting. Sonar edged my thoughts on like she knew what I was going to say. Like she knew what was skimming below the waves, as dangerous as a shark and as patient as a killer. The hunger was sated from the half-brain, but only for now. Only for a short while. And perhaps it was this knowledge, this truth, that forced my hand. Because it wasn't something deep down, no. It was alive, seeped in toxic strength. And she knew. And I knew. And though my mouth worked up and down, pointed teeth clacking together in a wasted try of words, it was my mind that was able to admit it first. And a small part of me admitted that that felt good, too.

_I want more._

* * *

P.O.V Chloe:

(Friday Night)

No," I whispered. "No no, no." I shook and fluttered like a leaf under his intense, watchful stare. My legs were drawn up under my chin. Wet spots blossomed on my knees every time new tear fell and was collecting into soaked fabric rubbing against my chin. I curled into myself, hoping it would all just stop.

 **Get up!** I flinched at the command. A hiccuped followed by a sob was my response. **Get! Up!**

"No! I won't," I wailed. Cracks split my words into pieces. His anger was overwhelming. It flared at the slightest disagreement. It's an unsteady force I cower at. "Please, stop," I whispered. The alien in front of me hovered just on the verge of striking. How something made of goop could be so terrifying might have been funny some other day, but today, terrifying is the only thing he is.

Cold, white claws scraped over my chin. Their presence tickled my skin until I tried burying my head further down. To my dismay, that just made it worse. The claws gripped my skin and forced me to look up through tear-stained vision. Their tips brushed over my chin, the contact made all the more intimidating from his close proximity. Four small, yellow eyes set in un-blinking sockets rove over my face. **Get up, or I'll make you wish you weren't alone.** My stomach twisted, tempting me to throw up again. **I'll make you scream,** he promised. _I don't doubt it._ Puddles of white decorated his blue body, reminding me of the poisonous frogs who used their markings to show their toxicity. His markings weren't the same stunningly bright colors, but it's the same display, same warning. My esophagus worked to swallow against the lump sitting in my throat. It was all too easy to imagine the sprays of blood my family could come home too. All to easy to imagine their horrified faces. All to easy to imagine their delight...

I furiously shook my head. "You'll hurt me anyway..."

Wrong words, evidently. Those yellow eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but whether in shock or anger was unclear, and then narrowed into slits. A force pulled my body up till I was standing, but it didn't bother quelling my trembles. He started making me walk towards my door before I felt his attention shift. A new bout of panic surged, made me ask "What are you doing?!" before a crack of pain split down my side. I cried out and was rewarded with a shove. Tears sprang anew, and I could only feel helpless as they vigorously rolled down my cheeks.

 **You're sister is due home soon.** My breath caught and held itself. **You'll feel better when you see her again. I think we'll wait for her, how does that sound? It sounds lovely.** The cold feel of claws pressed lightly into my sides. "No!" I blubbered. I struggled to turn my head around. To see those eyes, and plead. "Wait, wait! I'll do it. Take us upstairs before she gets home, please!" I begged. "Please stop!" The tears couldn't dry fast enough before new ones took their place. Their salt, tasting bitter on my tongue, were just another reminder of how pathetic I must look.

**That so?**

"Yes."

The force controlling my body retreated, but the claws tightened a hairline away from breaking skin. The little gesture was more than enough of a reminder. My sister's face, positioned alongside my parents, lingered in my mind and I forced myself to turn back up the stairs. I didn't dare linger for fear of causing my family pain. I made it back to my room and shut the door. A heavy, pulsing thud shook every limb, and every beat was felt. A strenuous silence filled my head, leaving me no room to wonder anything except for possibilities of my fate, and where it may lead, trapped in the clutches of this alien as is. Wondering where it might lead my family. A bolt of annoyance punched my gut and slammed me back into focus just in time to see the alien's face come back into view. Its lack of a mouth, curious as it is, is a comfort. **Are you ready?** A twisted sort of enjoyment wrapped around the words, and I can't help but hate him for it. _No, I'm not ready._ But that wasn't an opinion I dared voice."Yes," I replied. "I'm ready." My voice's quiet mumble could barely be heard. _I don't know what you want out there, but if it means my family is safe, then I'm ready._ I bit back another sob before it escaped. The claws dug in just a little deeper, drawing a gasp from my lungs, before releasing my skin and falling away entirely. His head started shrinking, its rivulets of goo drawing back into themselves before wrapping around to the back of my body. I held my breath, didn't dare blink. The goo stretched out behind me, and though I couldn't _see_ it, I could _feel_ it. It elongated, turning nearly blanket-like in structure, before slipping down onto my skin. _Into_ my skin. A cold, slimy trail followed every tentacle's path as they burrow down. I struggled not to shudder at the feeling of worms combing my body.

Yet before I knew it, it stopped. The tentacles lingered half-in half-out, just long enough for confusion to bubble at their delay. A small, small part of myself hoped he would never move again. But I found the hope quickly dashed as their trail started up, only different in trajectory this time. Now they were pulling out. They widened, thickened, covered. They wouldn't stop. I closed my eyes and sent a brief prayer to whatever God may be listening. The alien's slick skin matched its warmth with my over-heating body. He covered me.

I opened my eyes when the mass finally stopped. What felt like years must have actually took less than a minute. Everything looked sharper. Better defined. Smells strengthened until their taste started seeping to the back of my tongue. My minutely heightened senses took me by surprise and I made the mistake of letting a slip of happiness take over.

 **"Let's go."** We moved towards my bedroom window. I shivered, still unsure as to what he wanted out there. This evening he had just said "Food", and left it at that. He'd said "I hope you're ready to eat one of your own". And no, no I wasn't. But that doesn't matter. _All that matters is that my family is safe._ All that matters is to not think about what'll happen. He opened the window.

All that matters is to not pay attention.

We took a step outside, ready to drop to the ground. _All that matters is that my family is safe._

 _All that matters is that my family is safe._ And not what will happen, I reason, as we drop to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I appreciate whoever may have come this far into the story and those who, even if they didn't like it, gave reading this story a chance.
> 
> I'm a procrastinator, so unfortunately my writing schedule has more ups and downs than I'd like? But the plan is to update every 2-3 weeks. I'm gonna start this schedule on February 3rd since I'll need to focus on finals this upcoming week.
> 
> I'm still going to be attempting to write this week, but I won't have much time. I hope you're all havin a good time lately, I'll try to keep to the schedule without swaying to much.  
> (Also looking for a Beta)

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in the dust for far too long so I decided to finally post it. I don't have a beta to review this, so sorry for any errors or misspelling ):  
> I hope u all like it! It's the first fanfic I've actually published. Don't be afraid to leave a like if you enjoy the story, it helps motivation!
> 
> (I accept constructive criticism)


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